What I'll Never Do Again
by Wings II
Summary: If a longer conversation had ensued when Alpha Centauri became the topic du jour, where might it have led? (Set after the scene in ep. 3 when the passerby tells Aziraphale, "You're better off without him," when he absolutely is not.)


"Alpha Centauri. Might be about the only decent place we can get to before this whole mess goes up in flames." Crowley leaned back in a creaky leather armchair with his legs crossed and his sunglasses hanging from a finger. "Whaddya say?"

Aziraphale shook his head, but upon realizing Crowley couldn't see the movement—not for any special reason; his eyes were just closed—he delivered a firm, "No."

"No?" Crowley sat up and slapped his hand to his chest like he'd just suffered a great dishonor. _"No?" _Seeing that this dramatic display got no reaction from Aziraphale, he sighed loudly. "Come _on_, angel. You don't want to discorporate _here_, do you?"

"I … I'd rather not discorporate at all," the angel replied, "but you're being rather … rather pessimistic, I should say."

"You expect the 'Almighty'—" this was said in the most sarcastic tone possible, and elicited a wince from Aziraphale— "_not _to leave us here? To carry out some insane rescue mission with, I don't know, _ships _or something, and when the humans come running, say, 'Oh, this is for angels and demons _only_—the rest of you can go _fuck _yourselves!'"

"The Almighty would never say that," Aziraphale muttered weakly, well aware that he was losing this fight.

"You obviously have no idea who the Almighty is," the demon proclaimed in a tone that brooked no argument. (It could've been argued, but neither party would've won nor gotten anything out of it.) Crowley stalked across the meter of space separating him from Aziraphale and grabbed the angel's chin. "I'm offering you a way out, but like I said on the street—if you say no to me, I will never think of you again. I will spend the rest of my days careening around Alpha Centauri and never have a single thought of you. We keep finding each other over time, but neither of us _needs _the other. I can and will get on without you."

"You won't."

"Excuse me?"

"You won't. Get on without me, I mean. You won't."

"You don't know that. You don't know _me_." Crowley's nostrils flared as he fixed Aziraphale with a piercing stare. As terrifying as the demon's snakelike eyes could be, Aziraphale met his gaze. "You won't get on without me," Aziraphale explained, gaining confidence as he went on, "because you'd have nothing to _do_. You only function if you treat everything you do as a mission. For the last six thousand years, you've passed the time by popping in whenever you see fit to rescue me. At the very least, you'd have to find someone else whose neck needs saving every couple of centuries."

"Whenever I see fit? Whenever I _see fit? _Aziraphale, you _blithering_ idiot, I've only come to your aid because …" Crowley seemed to deflate, having lost his head of steam. "Damn my soul," he muttered. "Damn my soul."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"I wasn't asking _you_ to." Crowley swallowed and pursed his lips. "Besides, that certainly isn't your department."

"Ah, no, it's not. Er … Would you mind letting go of my face, please?"

"Oh, yeah. Forgot I was holding that." Crowley released Aziraphale's chin from his grip and clasped his hands behind his back, looking certifiably despondent. "Why are you so _difficult?" _he asked. "You can't agree with me just one time?"

"What do you want me to do—banish you? Say yes, that is my department, and send you back to Hell? I won't do that, Crowley. I won't."

"'Won't' this, 'won't' that … Say a single sentence, angel, a _single sentence_, that doesn't have that blasted word in it!" Rage burned in Crowley's eyes. Teeth clenched, he waited for Aziraphale to speak.

"Nothing you say," Aziraphale replied slowly, "makes me fear you if you call me 'angel' while you say it."

"That's what you _are!" _Crowley yelled. "It's not a pet name, it's not an endearment—it's the closest thing to a title I'll call you by! You're reading too far into this, an—" He stopped, realizing what he was about to say and appearing rather miffed about it.

Aziraphale couldn't hold back a satisfied smirk. "My dear fellow, I do believe you've backed yourself into a corner—a very tight one indeed."

"Don't call me that," Crowley snapped, seething. "I've never been 'dear' to you."

"On the contrary. Every time we happen upon each other, I delight in seeing you. We've been compatriots of sorts for six millennia, you know. I would hate if we separated because one of us desperately does not want to see the Apocalypse come true."

"You make it sound like we're a married couple," said Crowley. "'Separated,'" he added in a derisive mutter. His tone had softened, but at the moment, he was still quite venomous. The threat of being poisoned aside, Aziraphale took a step closer and rested his hand on Crowley's shoulder. "Don't go," he whispered. "Don't go."

"Or what? What're you going to do to me?"

"It's not about what I'll do." Aziraphale looked briefly into Crowley's molten eyes before kissing him on the lips with the delicacy of a butterfly's wings, lingering for a moment until it was clear Crowley was too shocked to reciprocate. He pulled back and, with a smug half-smile that didn't reach his eyes, said, "It's about what I'll never do again."

Roughly, Crowley tugged the angel toward him and kissed him with the hunger of a hundred years of famine, one hand on the back of his head and the other arm around his waist. Much to Aziraphale's chagrin, it was over as quickly as it began. As Aziraphale regained his breath, Crowley slipped his sunglasses on and said a simple, "Goodbye."

In the blink of an eye, the demon was gone, and Aziraphale crumpled to the floor, tears already streaming down his cheeks.


End file.
